A Helpful Weenie

When I was a little girl, I would walk around the backyard and collect all the acorns I could find and then put them into a few big piles at the base of the oak trees. I wanted to make sure the squirrels would have enough food for the winter and I figured I could carry more acorns at once so it made more sense for me to gather them up for the squirrels so they didn’t have to work so hard at something that I thought should be handed to them. Life is hard enough, imagine having to forage enough food for month-long spans of cold, dark time and doing it all with hands the size of sugar-cubes. I was sad and worried for the squirrels and I wanted to help. I thought about what a great day it would be for a squirrel that suited up for a long excursion of foraging only to find a pile of gold at the end of his driveway.

I did this many autumns over before it occurred to me that maybe the squirrels didn’t want my greasy human fingers rubbing their food. What if they were the kinds of animals that abandon their young if they can smell that a human touched them? What if I was literally spoiling all the food they have for winter? This was one of the moments that made me consider my place in the world. What if sticking my nose in realms beyond mine was actually causing harm instead of the good I so desperately wanted to give? Suppose my help isn’t wanted? This was all before ten years old. As a sixteen-year-old I was very interested in mission trips. I thought about my super great home life and then felt terribly guilty for it and sad that so many other people didn’t get to have that. I thought that I’d even switch places with them so they could feel warm and loved because surely I could handle poverty in exchange for someone else’s happiness. I researched lots of mission companies and volunteer organizations around the world and I read articles from ex-missionaries, aid workers, and founders of selflessness. One of the articles I read was written by an African man from a small town where many college students came each year to build houses and work on farms. While he understood the intentions of their help, he felt undermined by their pity and worse, he and other local men would have to go back behind the students to properly build the structures and till the fields. These kids knew nothing about farming or building and caused more work for the town in a roundabout way. That may only be one man’s opinion. Maybe another townsman appreciates the college kids getting the ball rolling even if they have to finish the job, but that guy’s article stayed with me. What if those college kids were just rubbing their grubby paws all over Africa’s acorns?

This sort of trepidatious yearning to be helpful translates to me being overly accommodating to people’s superficial desires and never actually making big helpful changes in someone’s life. Maybe that homeless guy wants to be homeless. I hear homelessness can be a profitable field to be in. So I opt out of getting to know the homeless guy. I don’t want to embarrass him by pointing out that he’s homeless. I’m sure he’s already aware of that but what if I give him the rest of my turkey club sandwich and he’s lactose intolerant or gluten free? One time I tried to give a box of cupcakes to a homeless guy and he told me he wanted “real food”.  Aren’t you hungry and poor? Wouldn’t any help be better than none? But turns out that sometimes the answer is no. On another occasion in New York City a man approached me for food so I offered him my hot dog but it turns out he’s a homeless vegetarian.  He had a pregnant wife with him and I‘ve never been pregnant but I imagine that’s a good time in life to make sure you’re getting enough protein and iron. I didn’t want to insult him by suggesting he give the hot dog to his wife so I simply carried on with a newly broken heart and my New York City hot dog. I’m envious of people that can talk to and befriend other people in bad scenarios. If how concerned I am came out, I'd surely offend them with my pity, even if it's pity from a place of love. I so badly want everyone to be happy and loved and healthy that it keeps me up at night. I wish I could be that sick person’s healthy friend who talks to them about life outside of the hospital bed they’re trapped in. Do you tell them the good things they’re missing? But if you left those things out, you’d just be a sick person’s downer friend who never had anything fun to say. How do you help some without hurting their feelings or ruining their acorns?

I write this post as I’m looking for volunteer work. I’m feeling guilty about my charmed life but that’s a silly thing to do. I’m in the perfect position to do something great for someone who needs it. I’ve been dealt some great cards. I have hands much larger and more capable than sugar cubes. I just don’t know how to use them. (And I don’t like children, germs, loud things, sticky things, medical things, or hard labor.) But I’m, like… a really nice person.

In other selfish news, the folks over in Tenby, Wales asked if I’d write a short post for the town blog.
You can read it here:  http://tenby.co.uk/traveller-tales-laura/